No Rest for the Wicked
by OSD Pern
Summary: An Ancient's attempt to establish peace between the Hylden and their holy race is disrupted when her plans are unearthed and viewed as a traitor. After her execution, her spirit restlessly awaits for one with the ability to revive her lost cause.
1. Chapter 1

This is the first story I've uploaded since gaining some pertinent writing skills and switching accounts. See my page for more details on that. But, I hope to flesh this work out and incorporate as much factual Legacy of Kain information I can, keeping it as accurate as possible. This is but a start.

The image for the "story cover" is a commission of the character, Hazurah. Please see my profile for the link to the original artwork and the artist who rendered it for me. Thank you very much, Marfrey!

* * *

She was to be executed at dawn. Her sisters had already met their fate. A blazing fire stripped away their flesh as they burned at the stake. It was a gruesome death, befitting of the crime. And she was to be the object of a public beheading. Humiliated before her entire race. It was a suitable demise.

Should she had the motive, an escape would have been feasible, perhaps plausible. But she hadn't the intent. She was no coward. To face the eminent end was the noblest action of her kind. A damning characteristic of their righteous blood.

And she would be hunted. The memory of the Ancients was eternal and everlasting. The thousand year war with the Hylden was a monument to their ceaseless and immutable recollection. And they would surely recall the treachery of one of their own.

No, fleeing was not an option.

Her holding call was dark and decrepit, teetering on the precipice of collapse. The walls were damp with accumulated moisture, the dank ground unfeeling and hard. Countless years had passed since the dungeon had last accommodated a prisoner. Centuries of war had long abandoned the very notion of captives. Foes were killed on site and principle. It was an honor to be imprisoned, a luxury denied to normal Hylden foe.

This predicament, however, contoured the most basic aspect of normalcy.

The chain bindings around her wrists rattled as she adjusted her posture. Her black wings ached with disuse and inactivity, thick leather straps immobilizing any type of flight. Ancients believed their blood was of holy origins, life bestowed upon them by The Old One. Integrity and honor were the basic foundations of society. And to chain one's own kin was the strongest sign of betrayal and dishonesty. How fitting.

She had heard very little of her followers since their uncovering. It was to be assumed that the fate of her supporters was to be shared with those of her sisters. To be cleansed by fire. She had caught the faint whisperings of guards as they monitored her cell. A few had attempted to flee apprehension. They were eliminated immediately.

Since the old dungeon lacked even a modest window, she was uncertain of time's passage while incarcerated. Time warped interesting patterns in a cell. Her thoughts twisted and morphed into memories of days of old. They were never peaceful. Guilt for the pointless death she had rout, Ancient and Hylden alike, swept over her like a great sea. Though the assurance she felt over her righteous undertakings never cringed at the face of doubt. Regret was an absent emotion.

The metal door of the chamber swung open and three armed guards stepped through. The trio of men carried pikes and spears of cruel metal, deadly edges to keep the offender at bay. Their prisoner stood from her seat to meet them. She would be seen sulking in a cage. She would face the end with pride.

"We are to see you to your death, witch," one of the men said. He was tall and handsome, skin a light shade of blue, hair black and long. She knew him well. One's own brother is not easily mistaken.

"Very well," she replied. "Let us then go."

Her kin reached out and firmly grasped her arm, pulling her towards the doorway. Her escorts surrounded her, two leading as her brother kept his grip to give her no quarter. She held back a snarl for such insulting treatment. Did he know her so little to think she would abandon her dignity and escape?

Through the dirty and disheveled halls of the antique prison, the traitor was led passed forgotten catacombs of Ancient architecture. They had taken great strides to lock her away, fearing she would influence others with her poisonous tongue. Stories of her endeavors appeared to have been greatly exaggerated to be seen as such a monster. She felt almost glorified.

Her first glimpse of day was not a pleasant one. As they stepped through the aged gates and into sunlight, a massive crowd came into view. A great span of blue and black fanned out over a courtyard, citizens and warriors come to witness her slaying. Endless taunts, curses and obscenities were called out from the throng. Yet her emotion never wavered. To exhibit weakness before death was disgraceful. She would not be remembered as one with a faint heart.

As they reached the stage, she found herself before the executioner, an elderly man armed with a silver halberd. A wooden block lay at her feet. Her brother released her arm and presented her to the deliverer of her fate.

"Hazurah," the old one started. His voice was thick and heavy with years of age. "You are accused of insurrection against the Ancient race, conspiring with the Hylden enemy and luring your clan mates to their deaths. What say you?"

An outburst erupted at the list of charges and onlookers rushed the lectern. The three guards fought to keep the rioters from the platform. Hazurah watched, sober and calm.

"My guilt is apparent, Seer. Were it not, the crowd still demands blood be shed." The old man turned to witness the growing restlessness of the spectators. It was true, he knew. She must be put to death.

"As you wish. Kneel, and submit to the eternal Wheel of Life."

Hazurah felt a hand against her back, forcing her onto her knees. Her head and neck came to rest on the wooden pedestal, black hair fanning out toward the ground. She heard a grunt of exertion as the man lifted the infamous Sender of Souls.

"There is no rest for the wicked," the man mused. With ailing strength, he brought down his axe upon the one who had strived to save them all.

Hazurah let a solemn smile reach her lips. "Indeed."

And all went black.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Review if you'd like to assist me with grammar and other issues. It isn't my strong suit, that's for sure. I appreciate it!


	2. Chapter 2

Finished chapter 2. It's rather short, so a quick read. Hope it's up to par with my previous installment.

* * *

She could feel the vertigo twisting around her. The sensation was not that of touch or physical nausea, but a subconscious muffling of senses. A steady and constant pulsing vibrated around her, a pale green hue glowing through a thick haze. It was an odd feeling.

Her mind shifted with unease. Feeling? How was she to feel? The last the spirit recalled was the separation of head and body, sinking into unfathomable depths. One with no physical representation should not - could not - experience such emotions. Yet her mind recognized the irony, even in its own statement.

However, the connection between body and mind is not so easily lost. What was once the host of its master lay incapacitated amongst the swirling green mist, idle and powerless. Yet such connection between spirit and the mind was eerily absent. Had the anchor of the brain been discarded elsewhere? The same cold depths did not contain such a crucial piece.

Fighting through the churning fog, the condensed spirit ambled through the weightlessness of an unfamiliar plane. As all Ancients were blessed with an acute sense of telekinesis and magic, the spirit guided herself not with sight but a hazy perception of her surroundings. It was a crude but effective method.

Her path led to an overhanging which surveyed a great span. Below held a gorge, and within it, ghastly creatures. Monsters of green and grey fought amongst one another, clawing and scratching at their surreal flesh. A flash, and a floating spirit much like her own emerged from between the horde. The vermin paused, transfixed, then unleashed a painful moan as they drew the spirit toward their open mouths. Moments later, the soul was devoured, and the creatures again milled around in their ungodly filth.

Hazurah backed away from the edge. What were these abominations? What was this horrid space? Had the Ancients and Hylden alike been damned to this realm when death overcame them? What a loathing place the great One had let them fall too.

The glowing orb retreated farther into the mist, away from such mindless monstrosities. A nook, crevice, any area to flee from such horrors. She wandered aimlessly through the contorted structures of the spectral realm, avoiding the sluagh as they hunted her brethren.

Sanctuary was found amongst the rubble of a long abandoned edifice high above the pit and the lurking sluagh. Beyond, what appeared to be the endless sky moved and swayed like a pool of water. The orb climbed through the ethereal liquid, coming to rest at an ancient doorway. It was adorned in familiar markings, the writings and characters of her people. What had once been her people.

A growing sense of pain and rage rose from within. Her people had so brutally executed her, never considering the implications of their rash actions. Her work, her attempt to halt the inevitable, had been discarded as treachery. And now the race suffered, fighting the imminent extinction she had tried so desperately to avoid.

The specter floated aimlessly, drifting in and around the now dormant Fire Forge. She had read the signs foretold by her kin, etched into stone here. It spoke of a savior to protect and restore Nosgoth, equally representing its annihilator. A redeemer and destroyer unique to his fate.

The spirit rustled and moved with new found arousal. A design unfolded from within the Ancient's mind. Perhaps, she mused, the deliverer of her fate had spoke the truth. If all played out, there would indeed be no rest for this wicked soul.

* * *

Thanks for reading. I'll have another chapter up soon!


End file.
